Yuffie tried to meditate. If she pretended hard enough, the room's one soft lamp could almost be the Pagoda with its wall sconces. Except no Chekhov to box her around the ears when her thoughts wandered. She needed to contact Leviathan. If she could access some of his power, then she could perhaps escape from… wherever she was.
In the darkness of her own mind, she pushed her feet up the slope of a great, craggy cliff. A ferocious wind whipped around her, thickening the air with the smell of saltwater. Though she could not see it over the precipice rising before her, she knew the cold sea thrashed at the bottom. Each step forward was a battle, and at times she wanted to fall to her hands and knees and crawl over the pitted ground. These were Wutai's northern shores in the dead of winter, the wind jabbing into every nook and cranny, beating the rock into submission.
Yuffie reached the edge of the cliff and planted her feet. She knew the rocks here could be loose and anchored by nothing more than a bit of sand and water, but she braced herself. The wind battered her, and at times her body swayed as if urging her toward the water below.
There was nowhere to go but down. She dangled one foot into open air.
Suddenly, she wasn't on the cliff. Her cheek scraped carpet, and Tseng bled out in front of her. His face whitened as the light faded from his eyes. She pulled hand over hand across the ground, ripping fibers from the rug in her haste to reach him. She was a foot away, an inch.
Her eyes snapped open, and she gasped like emerging from a deep lake.
Once Yuffie had regained her breath, she uncrossed her legs from their lotus position on the bed and brought her knees to her face, breathing deeply. Three times now she had been a hair's breadth from accessing her god's power. Each time had shifted into a blow-by-blow replay of Tseng's death which destroyed her concentration and catapulted her from meditation.
She sent another fervent prayer skyward and to somewhere in the vicinity of her belly. Please, let him be alive. This thought chased itself in circles in her mind, until she couldn't take it anymore and seized a pillow with a delicate gold fringe.
The pillow hit the door with a soft thud just as it opened. Lin's face appeared in the gap. She said with some amusement, "Good morning."
Something about Lin made Yuffie uneasy, as if her huge dark eyes could read her every thought and feeling with ease. Despite this, Yuffie met her eyes and determined she would not look away. "When can I go to the bathroom?"
"Now, if you like. It is not our intention to torture your bladder, your highness."
"So you're going to torture me some other way?"
"I'll walk you myself if you cooperate. I'd rather not have to call the guards." Lin opened the door behind her, gesturing into the hallway. Now Yuffie could see the shoulders of men standing on either side of the frame. Until now, Lin had been deftly sidestepping the subject of Yuffie's imprisonment by way of a well-furnished room and mostly hospitable treatment.
She slipped off the bed and noted the way Lin kept a definite distance between them, not impolite, but a consistent four feet. Yuffie was careful not to make any sudden moves. She needed this time to gather any information she could about her surroundings.
The hall extended a couple hundred feet. Generic, stain-hiding carpet covered the floor, and the walls were painted an off-white—not nearly as lush as the room to which Yuffie was confined. The square plaster tiles above her head gave her no hint as to where they might be located, but there were two separate male/female bathrooms at the end of the hall. Yuffie thought they might be in a wing of offices somewhere. Only bureaucracy could look this boring.
The restroom was small, neat and done mostly in beige with bamboo accents. There didn't seem to be any way out except an air duct, but now might not be the best time to pry out the screws and clamor around in the ventilation system. An option for later, maybe.
When she had returned to her room, it was clear Lin had no immediate plans to leave her in peace. She sat in one of the cushy chairs. Initially, Yuffie moved to sit on the bed, but the thought made her pause. Something about sitting on the bed while Lin observed from a chair made her feel less-than. She crossed the small living space and took the chair opposite the older woman, sinking into its padded depths.
"I feel, my Empress, that we have some of the same goals. I too wish for positive change in Wutai."
Yuffie tried not to laugh, for fear it would sound too much like mocking. "You must think this job is easy or something. What do you think I've been trying to do for the last six months?"
Lin shook her head. "You misunderstand me. While reviving the economy has been a mostly successful effort on your part, something I feel will continue now that you have kickstarted the process, I'm principally concerned with…choice."
"Choice?" Yuffie asked, trying not to look as suspicious as she felt at this new turn in their dialogue.
"Would you allow me to tell you a little about myself? I believe it will illuminate my meaning." Lin crossed her long, elegant legs and pulled her braid over her shoulder, smoothing it. Yuffie thought she might be nervous. The faraway look in her eye spoke of another time.
"Uh, sure," she said, hoping this wouldn't be disturbing—or worse, boring. She'd had enough of being bored in captivity already.
"My mother was a prostitute."
Well, Yuffie thought, this took a turn I didn't expect.
At seeing her surprise, Lin smiled. Her lips were red against her white teeth. The expression seemed pleasant enough, but Yuffie had the feeling not for the first time that something more dangerous lurked beneath Lin's pleasant, cultured demeanor. An image of Rufus Shinra appeared in her mind's eye. Lin's smile was no so different than his.
"I had a twin, and her name was Rei. I hope you understand I don't mean it as a boast when I say I've been told my whole life how beautiful I am. I mean it to impress upon you that my sister was twice as beautiful as me, and a kinder soul you would never meet." Lin removed her small silver spectacles and polished them on the edge of her coat, her casual gesture at odds with her next statement. "Because our mother was a prostitute, Rei and I were as well. We were trained in the arts of pleasing men from the age of seven."
Yuffie swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Seven years old? She had known about brothels like that. Illegal and underage prostitution had been a rising problem, especially as the kitschier aspects of the tourist industry failed to supplement Wutai's bleeding economy. Wutai could be beautiful and historical, but it could also be dark and troubled.
"Knowing this, perhaps you can see what I mean when I say I believe in the importance of choice. Everyone has a right to choice, Empress, a right I and others like me have been denied in this country.
"I am no longer consigned to that fate, but it took a long time and much work to become the whole person you see in front of you today. Healing was a long and arduous journey. And not all are as lucky as me."
The question fell out of Yuffie's mouth almost before she registered her desire to know the answer. "Was your sister lucky?" She was known for many things. Tact was not one of those things.
A flash of… something flitted across Lin's face. A tightening of the eyes, a slight twitch of the mouth. It was gone before Yuffie could decipher it, and Lin was rising from her chair.
"Your highness, I must take my leave for the moment. In the meantime, I urge you to think about what I've said. We'll talk more later."
Before Yuffie could form a protest, she was left alone to the soft lamp, the lush room, and her churning thoughts.
...
Wasting no time, Tseng snapped off a low-level fire spell and leapt backward, out of the way of the billowing flames. Shake had already tucked and rolled, astonishingly fast. Something sharp and glinting swept past Tseng's ear. He tossed Yuffie's shuriken.
It had been a few years since he'd actually used one of the weapons; early Turk-training offered training in several martial arts and a variety of weapons, but since then, he hadn't picked up a shuriken. He just didn't have the flair for them that most native Wuteng people did. He had always loved the heft of a gun in his hands.
His job description was such that he had to play games and tricks, and he did not enjoy them any less. But when it came time for the kill, he preferred a clean, straight shot. Pulling the trigger came almost naturally to him.
Smoke obscured his vision, but a cry of pain confirmed Twin Viper striking its target. Tseng rolled forward under two more projectiles and came up onto one knee, transferring to a standing position in one fluid motion. The shuriken would not come back if lodged in another man, so he acted on instinct, bringing his hands together at head-level. His palms clapped hard over someone's ears.
The other man hissed, and Tseng released him as he staggered. Shake darted in and landed three swift jabs—one to the man's groin, another to his solar plexus, and one to the temple. He went down like a sack of rice at Tseng's feet. As the smoke dissipated somewhat, Tseng saw Twin Viper had collided with the guard's partner, lodged three inches deep in his right shoulder.
The unconscious guard wore a set of jet black, standard-issue robes with a small emblem printed on the chest in aquamarine. A stylized version of the Wuteng symbol for "wave." He frowned, hefted the man with one arm, and said to Shake, "Open that door."
Shake looked to the office. The gold flourishes of Staniv's name shone faintly in the lamplight. Tseng motioned for Shake to grab the other guard as he dragged the unconscious assailant into the room.
Dislodging the Twin Viper from the unfortunate man's shoulder was not too difficult. The blades had been kept so sharp, they slipped from his flesh like oil. Tseng could not help but be impressed with Yuffie's diligence.
"Let's go, before someone takes notice," Shake said, closing the door behind them. Tseng doubted anyone would fail to see the scorch mark his fire spell had created or the smear of blood the wounded man had left behind him on the carpet, but they had no other choice but to move.
They managed to make it to Yuffie's roof exit without encountering anyone else. Twice they heard voices and hid in a convenient closet or room. When they finally got to the roof, they crouched, shaded from the rest of the palace and the lawn by an outcropping of the architecture which made it so convenient as Yuffie's favorite spot.
"If we can get over the garden wall and beyond the stables, the forest should cover us," Shake said.
Tseng thought it was probably their best option. He had the grudging thought that Shake might not be completely useless.
They had no choice but to slither over the roof on their stomachs. Sometimes the tiles scraped them awkwardly or the angles of the roof made progress slow. The shuriken further complicated matters as Tseng attempted to move across the roof without drawing attention, its steel threatening to clatter against the ceramic. The half-moon cast shadows over the roof which, luckily, shielded their presence.
When they had reached the low roof over the garden wall, they stopped. There could be guards posted under the eaves, unseen.
In the lowest possible voice, Tseng breathed, "We'll have to try to make a run for the wall."
"All right. Three, two, one... go!" Shake hissed, sliding off the roof to land on the fence a few feet down and taking the impact with a spry bend of his knees.
Before Tseng could follow, he heard a shout.
"Intruder!"
He didn't waste any more time. He heard gunshots and hit the ground running.
Shake was so fast Tseng had difficulty keeping up; the younger man's legs ate up the ground with ease. Tseng wasn't slow, but Shake soon began to outstrip him. As the First Mighty God reached the doors of the stables, another guard in black robes emerged. He hefted a shotgun in his hands and pointed it in Shake's direction.
He would not reach the younger man in time. Before Tseng could think, he had lifted the Twin Viper and summoned Shiva.
Time seemed to slow as the goddess materialized, her skin frosty and glittering in the moonlight. Tseng watched his breath turn to crystals in the air around him. She cast Diamond Dust with a flourish, shattering the man to frozen pieces in the grass. Snow softened the night air as she faded, seeming almost to melt before his eyes.
Shake raced into the stables and burst out a scant few moments later on a magnificent golden chocobo. He galloped toward Tseng, grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the saddle as the bird ran toward the trees. Struggling to lift Tseng's weight with one arm and steer with the other, Shake fumbled a bit and almost dropped Tseng. The bird careened, and Tseng heard a gunshot.
He reached out for the other materia set into the shuriken, and pulled a level three fire spell. The magic exploded, and the chocobo rocketed forward, spooked. Tseng's feet dragged on the ground, and he thought his arm would tear from its socket.
With one last desperate heave, Shake managed to swing him into the saddle. Despite his position behind Shake, Tseng grabbed the reins and led them on an erratic, zigzagging path until they reached the forest.
The heat behind Tseng told him a fire was burning, and the shouts told him of their struggles to put it out. He hoped it would be enough of a distraction that he and Shake could put some distance between themselves and the palace.
He hoped he hadn't just started a fire that would burn down the entire capital. He cursed himself, and kicked their chocobo in the sides, urging it onward. There was no time to dwell on his decision.
He had to find his wife.
…
A knock sounded at the door, and Yuffie put down the paperback she had been afforded for scant entertainment. It was a detective novel set in Costa del Sol—not really her bag, but captives couldn't be choosy.
"Come in," she called, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of being treated with this level of politeness after they had already knocked her on the head, shot her husband, and demanded she relinquish her throne.
Lin entered carrying a dark wood tray, polished to an impressive shine. On the tray, she balanced the tools of a traditional Wuteng tea. Yuffie almost picked up the paperback and went back to the detective novel. Surely fiction could not be as absurd as her real life had become. The older woman set the tray on the low table between the two chairs, then gestured for Yuffie to come sit.
"I thought you might like a hot drink."
"Let me guess—you want to chat again." Yuffie perched cross-legged in the chair, aware of how strange she looked. If these people wanted to play house, then she would rebel in the only way she knew how: acting like herself.
Lin did not answer immediately. Instead, she lifted a spoon carved from bamboo and portioned tea leaves into the bowl of steaming water.
"You going to spin me another yarn?" The idea of a hot drink, though she would never admit it, appealed to her. There was a kind of dampness to her cell. Though heat poured from the air duct, the air seemed humid, the walls and floors chilly.
Yuffie watched the steam writhe and dissipate, marveling at Lin's elegant white arms in her trailing sleeves. She didn't spill a drop as she whisked the tea, something Yuffie had never mastered. Chekhov discovered early in Yuffie's life that where some girls had a delicate touch, her young pupil was more like a human wrecking ball.
Lin poured tea into two white china cups. Golden filigree lined the rims, and a small scarlet dragon cavorted along the sides of each. She held the teacup out to Yuffie, who almost slopped scalding tea over her fingers as Lin said, "Your husband is dead."
Mastering her expression, Yuffie brought the cup to her nose and inhaled the fragrant steam. She would not give this woman the satisfaction of seeing her feelings.
She asked as neutrally as possible, "What makes you say that?"
"I watched him die, your highness. He bled out on the carpet."
Yuffie swallowed a sip of tea. It was still too hot, burning her tongue, but it helped loosen the lump forming in her throat. Steam obscured her view of Lin's face for a moment. and Yuffie felt bolstered by the respite from her dark gaze. "How did you get out of the brothel?"
Lin tasted her drink before responding. "I ran away."
"You make it sound easy," Yuffie said, eyebrow up. "Those places don't just give girls up for no reason."
"It wasn't easy." She paused, setting her cup down on the tea tray again. She surprised Yuffie by tucking her legs beneath her. Her look tended toward the Western style today, a deep blue affair with white embroidery. She looked like a sculpture. Even the fine lines around her eyes magnified her elegance, lending her a well-traveled and mysterious air. "Your friends are not coming for you either."
"Well, you sure seem to know a lot." Yuffie shrugged noncommittally. She wasn't stupid. She knew that Lin was trying to mess with her head. The best way to handle it was not to engage her.
"I know your friends aren't coming for you because we have them." Here was the danger in Lin's beauty and relative ease of manner. There she sat with her legs folded under her like a schoolchild, delivering the news that she had captured AVALANCHE as if she were relaying the weather report.
"Is that so?" She shrugged. "So give me the deets, Lin. How'd you escape from the brothel?"
Lin sipped her tea, narrowed her eyes as she stared at some point beyond Yuffie's shoulder. "I killed the man who would have kept me there."
"You killed… who? The owner of the brothel?" Yuffie could not think what else she meant.
Her eyes settled on Yuffie, and the shadow in her gaze sent a shiver down the ninja's spine. "He couldn't have my sister, so he chose me instead." She picked up the teapot. "Would you like some more? It's still hot."
Yuffie nodded, holding out her cup. The situation was not ideal, but she would take what comforts she could get, and tea reminded her of home. "What happened to your sister?"
"Your country is not happy with you, Empress."
Yuffie stiffened with her nose over the rim of the cup. She tried not to let her irritation show. "My approval ratings are higher than anyone else's in the last fifty years."
Lin shrugged. "That means nothing when you consider the Kisaragis have ruled for six times that. You've only managed to repair some of the damage your family has caused."
"Midgar wasn't built in a day, lady. You have to give me more than six months to pull Wutai out of the dump."
"Wouldn't you say your family has had enough time to ruin this country?" Lin's tone was not sharp despite her words. Everything she said came out sounding like complete, inarguable fact.
Yuffie did not know how to answer. She thought it might be more for the people to decide, but that sort of change could only come once she had spent some time mucking about with the legal system and allowing for adjustment periods. Yuffie certainly didn't feel it was Lin's decision to make. "I'm working on a way to give everyone more say in how this country progresses," she said after a long moment.
"You have only two more days to decide, your highness."
"And then what? You kill me?"
Lin tipped her head in a small, slow nod. "If you will not give me the throne yourself, I will take it."
"Here I thought you were all about choice."
"You do have a choice, your highness," said Lin. "You may choose to abdicate to me willingly, or die in your quest to keep it from me."
"So what do I do after I give you the throne? Just tell my entire country I changed my mind after six months? That'll go over well."
"If you agree to cooperate, I guarantee a life of quiet solitude. Only AVALANCHE and I will know where to find you forever after. Doesn't that sound nice? Life on your own terms."
"No. Life on your terms. That's not much of a choice at all." Yuffie set her teacup down hard enough to make the tray rattle.
Lin rose, put her cup on the tray, and lifted it by its handles. "Think carefully."
"What happened to your sister?" Yuffie asked again.
Lin's back was to her now. She stopped but didn't turn around as she said, "The man I killed murdered her."